


Suspended

by spacescaptain



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cohabitation, F/M, Heavy Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Mutual Pining, Police investigation, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Burn, the title doesn't mean what you think it means
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-02-04 09:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18601606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacescaptain/pseuds/spacescaptain
Summary: Hank, Connor, and a team of others at the Detroit Police Department are tasked with trying to get red ice out of the city.  What happens when a mysterious android shows up with information, a secret, and a need for protection?





	1. The Assignment

Captain Fowler opened the door to his office and leaned outside.

“Hank!” he called, startling the Lieutenant.

“What?” Hank grunted.

Fowler gestured for Hank to come to his office, stepped back inside, and sat back at his desk.

“The hell did I do now?” Hank grumbled to himself, walking towards the Captain's office.  He opened the door and stepped inside.

“I have an offer for you, and I need you to not make me regret it.” Fowler began. “We want to revive the Red Ice Task Force and I want you to lead it.”

“Go on…” Hank invited with bewilderment.

“You'd be able to pick the team—I'd have to approve, of course, but it'd be your choice.  You'd decide the approach the team takes. Everything would be your choice.” Fowler said. “Unless you choose to do something too crazy, then I'd step in, but I wouldn't be giving you this opportunity if I didn't trust you.”

Hank hesitated and subtly fidgeted with his sleeve at the crook of his elbow where his arms were crossed.  The sleeve had started to form little balls of thread that sat atop the fabric from the nervous habit being repeated over time.  Fowler looked at him expectantly.

“When do we start?”

Satisfaction filled Captain Fowler’s eyes, and he held in a smile for the sake of professionalism.  He began to explain the logistics of forming and running a team for this broad of a case. They discussed the details for about twenty minutes.  Hank chose to sit down after two.

“I’ll be transferring all the files we have on open cases to your workspace.” Fowler said, then nodded to the office door. “Get started. Room 93 is yours from 1:30-3 this afternoon if you want to brief your new team; that gives you a couple hours to go over the information you have.”

Hank nodded and stood up, but paused as his hand touched the door to leave.  He looked over his shoulder and gave Fowler a genuine “thank you” before exiting.

After a few minutes, Hank got the notification that new files had been made available to him. He accessed them and saw dozens of poorly organized leads on the red ice supply chain. With a sigh and a glance at the clock, he started to dig through them, organizing them in a way that made more sense to him. He opted to print a few of the files that he felt would be important to show in the meeting, and started to collect them into a folder.

“Working on a new case, Lieutenant?” Connor asked from the neighboring desk.

“I told you to stop calling me Lieutenant when it’s just us.”  Hank replied. “Fowler is starting up the Red Ice Task Force again and he’s having me lead it. I’m having a meeting at 1:30 so I wanna get my info straight.”

“Congratulations!”  Connor said. “I’m glad you’re being given such a big opportunity.  Do you know who the team is yet?”

“I'm deciding.”

Connor stared at him expectantly. Hank never thought a neutral expression would be such a good method to provoke a response.

“Yes, you're on the team, Connor.” Hank grumbled, suppressing a smile to keep his gruff exterior.

“Thank you, Hank.” Connor was pleased. “I appreciate your trust.”

Hank rolled his eyes and waved him off.

One o'clock rolled around relatively quickly, and Hank pushed a message to his new team.

> To: Det. Benjamin Collins; Det. Connor; PO. Christopher Miller; PO. Michael Wilson;  PO. Emily Person; PO. Sadie Rodriguez
> 
> Msg:  Hello all,
> 
> Captain Fowler has decided to start up the Red Ice Task Force again, and he has put me in charge.  If you are receiving this message, I have chosen you to be part of the team. Meet in Room 93 at 1:30 so we can go over the details.
> 
> Lieutenant Anderson

Almost immediately, he received a reply from Detective Collins.

> Msg: Sorry Hank, I got assigned to another case this morning.

"Shit." Hank thought. "The only other detective that isn't _definitely_ assigned to a case is Reed."

> To: Det. Gavin Reed
> 
> Msg: Hey fuckhead,

Hank erased that.

> Msg: Detective Asshat,

He erased that, too.

> Msg: Detective Reed,

Unable to stomach writing out a unique invitation message, he copied and pasted the one from before.

Hank got up from his desk and made his way towards Room 93, file folder of papers in hand.  He started using magnets to pin up important details, and dry erase markers to write in more information.  People slowly started to file in as 1:30 approached, each of them taking a seat without bothering Hank.

Connor walked in and silently stood next to Hank, looking at the board up close.  His hands were politely clasped behind his back, but he was just barely outside of the Lieutenant's personal space.

"Could you go sit down like the rest of the normal people?" Hank said quietly through clenched teeth.

"Yes, Lieutenant." Connor nodded and took a seat in the very front row.

The last person to show up was Detective Reed, who Hank met with a disdainful look.

"Okay everybody, you all know what we're doing here,"  Hank began. "I've made it so you all have access to the relevant files for this case, but I brought a few things I feel are especially important to go over in person. Lemme set some ground rules: One, don't rearrange or rename the folders in the official case document. Two, do what I say when I say it. Three, respect each other – I'm your superior, not your babysitter. Understood?" He paused for an affirmative response from the team.

"Great. Now, I wanna talk about the goals for this investigation, which I have organized into immediate, short-term, long-term, and very long-term." He pointed to the board and spoke about each.

"First thing we're gonna do is solicit tips from the public, then field those tips.  Connor and I will take care of that to start, but if the volume of tips is too high, or if we get stuck on a lead, I'll be sending them to you, Officer Person. I'm going to ask Captain Fowler to set up a tipline and arrange a press conference for tomorrow night."

"On the short term, our goal is to find suppliers of red ice – the people who are making this stuff.  We'll be wasting our time if we try to go after dealers or users for any reason other than to get information. Most of the people on this team – Miller, Wilson, Rodriguez – are essentially on retainer for busts, which are the long-term goal.  If we decide to make smaller scale arrests along the way, I want Wilson and Rodriguez to handle it."

"As far as the investigation stuff that leads to those arrests and busts, that'll be me, Connor, Reed, and Miller."  He looked pointedly at both Gavin and Connor. "Remember rule number three."

"Very long-term is get red ice out of Detroit. Obviously."  He looked at the team and noticed that Fowler had walked in at some point; he looked pleased.  "Any questions before I start talking about the leads we already have?"

The rest of the meeting went on without a hitch.  After he dismissed the team – _his_ team – he walked up to Fowler.

"I'm not sure when you walked in," he said. "Do you think you could get me a press conference tomorrow?"

"Think you can get here early enough to do one in the morning?"  Fowler replied.

"I can, but I’ll complain the whole time."

Fowler glared.

“I’m joking, Jeffery.” Hank grinned and elbowed him.

“Uh-huh.” A smile fought its way onto the Captain’s face.  He gave Hank a friendly pat on the shoulder. “You did good. It’s good to have you back.”

“Feels good to _be_ back.” Hank agreed.

“I’ll keep you updated about the press conference.” Fowler turned and left the meeting room.


	2. The Press Conference

Hank walked into the station bright and early at five o'clock in the morning. He was presentable,  clad in a solid colored shirt and a nice jacket, but his face clearly showed that he was tired.

He grabbed his coffee mug from his desk and walked over to the coffee maker, placing it under the spout. He stood there and stared ahead. While waiting for his coffee, he stared straight ahead. He had spent the night rehearsing what he would say to the press, and the speech was still echoing in his mind.

Connor began to walk over to greet his partner, stopping about 10 feet away, out of the Lieutenant's view. He looked at Hank for a moment, then to the coffee machine, then back to Hank. Connor waited about thirty seconds for Hank to press the circular start button, before taking it upon himself. Hank flinched and blinked back to alertness.

"It's important to get a full night's rest before important events, such as exams or presentations." Connor’s voice rung as he used his old mechanical cadence. He leaned in and adopted a tone somewhere between teasing and concern. "Or press conferences."

"It's too early for your bullshit, Connor." Hank picked up his now-full mug and started to sip the hot coffee.

"Do you need any assistance preparing for the press conference?"

"No," Hank dismissed. "I'll be fine."

Connor nodded and gave Hank a comforting pat on the shoulder before he retreated to his desk.

The conference was scheduled for six o'clock, and the press started to arrive at five-thirty. When the first journalist arrived, Fowler gathered the team to prepare them.

"I am of the understanding that Lieutenant Anderson will be doing the talking, yes?" He spoke with his hands as always, gesturing vaguely to the group.

The group nodded in response.

"That doesn't mean the rest of you don't have a job to do." Fowler sounded like a parent laying out ground rules before a party. "Your job is to stand still and look pretty. You don't talk to each other, nor do you talk to the press. Got it?"

The team replied with a chorus of 'yes sir's and 'got it's.

"Lieutenant Anderson," Fowler turned his attention to Hank. "I'm assuming you have notes. May I see them?"

Hank nodded and pulled a small stack of index cards from his back pocket, then handed them to the Captain. The edges of the white cards were curled and discolored where Hank's thumbs had touched them while practicing the night before.

Fowler skimmed them, then nodded silently as he handed them back to the Lieutenant, taking a brief glance at the clock.

"Looks like you have ten minutes to kill, so if anyone has anything to attend to, do it. Meet in the green room at 5:55. You're all dismissed."

Officer Person jogged to her desk and quickly pulled up some files for a domestic violence case that she’d been assigned to. She wasn't sure how long the press conference would be, and she needed to get a report to Detective Farrel by that evening. Some things weren't adding up. So, the interest of saving time, she wanted to get things hashed out as soon as possible.

Officer Rodriguez walked to the restroom to make herself more presentable. She had been running late that morning, so her hair was still wild with sleep. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she noticed that her shirt was buttoned crooked. She sighed and got to work.

Officer Miller went to a quieter part of the precinct and returned a missed call from his brother, who agreed to watch the baby while he and his wife were at work. The daycare center was closed since the caregivers had all come down with the flu.

"He's walking." Chris' brother said, by way of greeting. Chris could hear his one-year-old son giggling loudly in the background.

"What?!" Chris’ eyes widened.

"He's walking!" His brother repeated. "I mean, he's not right this very second but he walked at least two steps."

"Oh my God," Chris muttered, running back to Fowler's office. He pressed the receiver to his chest to muffle it. "Captain, my son is taking his first stepsー"

"Go!" Captain Fowler interrupted. He may be the boss, but he wasn't about to deprive Officer Miller of such an important moment. Chris fled to his car to go home.

Officer Wilson raised an eyebrow curiously as he looked up from his desk, watching as Chris dashed past. When the officer had left his field of view, he simply shrugged and returned to answering emails. At this moment, he was typing a response to a witness in an incident regarding a fraudulent narcotic prescription that had been turned in at a nearby pharmacy.

Detective Reed chose to go distract his friend Officer Chen with a casual conversation about her mother. Mrs. Chen had to leave her retirement home due to raised prices and was now living with her daughter. Since Tina was single and an officer's salary isn't enough to hire a caregiver, she had to leave her mom home alone. Gavin masterfully deflected any questions about his own family life.

Hank had made a mistake choosing caffeine. His hands were sweaty and shaky as he obsessively reviewed his notes, softly muttering the lines to himself like a student reviewing flashcards before a test. Connor walked past him on his way to his desk and scowled. He grabbed the stack of index cards from his unexpecting partner.

"Hey!" Hank frantically grabbed at the cards. "Give those back!"

"I'll give them back to you when we go to the green room," Connor repeatedly moved the stack out of Hank's path of reach. "Over-practicing is just going to make you more anxious."

Hank practically snarled, "Oh, and you bothering me isn't?"

"Relax. Deep breaths, Lieutenant."

"Really?" Hank groaned and glared at his partner.

Connor blinked and tilted his head. "Really. Or don’t, but you're not getting these cards back."

Hank rolled his eyes and went to sulk at his desk, but he'd resent anyone who would describe it as sulking.

As 5:55 came, the team coalesced in the green room. Captain Fowler led them out and took his stance at the podium. Cameras flashed, capturing the team standing strong and proud behind the poised Captain. Hank would never admit it, but not having the cards for a few minutes actually did calm the Lieutenant down.

"Over ten years ago, the DPD formed an elite task force that was responsible for the largest drug bust in Detroit history. This team, deemed the Red Ice Task Force, was made up of nine brave men and women determined to clean up the streets of Detroit and free this city from the clutches of the drug known as red ice. They were very effective, for a short time, but after the RITF disbanded In 2032, red ice rose back to prominence once more.” He paused for a brief moment, “Among the original officers on that task force was Lieutenant Hank Anderson. He has continued to serve this city since then. In order to once again stave off the red ice epidemic, he has assembled a new Red Ice Task Force in order to attempt to take down the red ice supply chain in Detroit." Fowler stepped aside, prompting for Hank to take his place.

"Thank you for the introduction, Captain Fowler." Hank began, "I have assembled a team consisting of myself, two detectives, and four officers, all of whom you see here today to help combat the spread of red ice in the city we all call home. Our goal is to target the core supply chain that contributes to the production and distribution of this drug in Detroit; our focus is not primarily on individual dealers, but on the intricate criminal network behind red ice."

"At this stage, we appreciate the cooperation of the media in helping us to solicit tips from the citizens of Detroit." Lieutenant Anderson continued. "We have set up an anonymous tipline at 313-555-4233. The information from this tipline or any other channel regarding red ice will be given to my team, and we will use the information to the best of our ability." he paused, allowing the media a brief moment to react.

"We ask that anyone with further information about the production or distribution of red ice to please call the tipline at 313-555-4233, or come to the DPD Central Station at 1301 3rd Avenue." He paused for a moment, mentally assuring that he had hit all his points. "Any questions?"

A few reporters vied for attention. Hank pointed at a man in the second row.

"Was there a specific case that pushed you to form a new task force?"

He shook his head, "There was no specific case, but this is in response to a rising number of cases involving red ice." He called on a reporter towards the back.

"You said that the focus will not be on individual dealers, why is that?"

"In the larger network, dealers are replaceable but intensely loyal. Arresting them won't do much; Either they'll just be replaced, they'll refuse to give us information, or a combination of the two." He called on a woman in the front.

"Why is the new team smaller than the team formed in the 2020s?"

"This team is very capable of getting the job done. Resources are a bit thinner than we'd like, but I assure you that this team is capable." Only one more reporter had a question.

"Why the android?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why did you choose to put an android on the team above another human detective?" He nodded in gesture to where Connor was standing.

"I filled this team with people who I believe are the best for the job." Hank stressed the word 'people', but kept his voice calm and level. "Detective Connor is no exception to that."

"Any further questions?" Hank scanned over the room and didn't see any more reporters with hands raised. "Thank you." He gave the smallest hint of a proud smile as he walked away from the podium, letting Captain Fowler take his place once more.

"Thank you all for coming,” Fowler’s eyes scanned the crowd. “That is all we have to share with you today."

The news crews shut off their cameras and started to pack up.

"You did good, Hank." Captain Fowler praised him on their way back to the green room. "That'll be on the 5 o'clock news tonight."

"Wait, what do you mean _tonight_? Why am I doing it at the crack of dawn for the evening news?"

"It was a test." He seemed smug. "You passed."

Hank's jaw dropped as the Captain strolled away. The others held in their laughter for their own good, except for Officer Rodriguez. She adopted an expression similar to the Lieutenant's.

"D'you hear that shit?" Hank turned to her.

"Yup." Sadie replied with displeasure.


	3. Olivia

_ "We ask that anyone with further information about the production or sale of red ice please call the tip line at 313-555-4233 or come to the DPD Central Station at 1301 3rd Avenue." _

Olivia absentmindedly slid her finger across her phone screen to rewind the video to the beginning. She had watched the press conference too many times to count.  Well, she could count them. This was her 22nd loop, adding up to over an hour of viewing time. She skipped the questions every time but the first; hearing the reporter not-so-subtly dig at androids made her narrow her eyes in anger and disgust.

Her LED spun yellow as she listened to the Lieutenant's speech.  She could smell the stench of acetone coming from the garage through the vents. It was certainly unhealthy for the humans residing in the house, but why would the people who would smoke the final product care about the health effects of living in a drug den?

"Any questions?"

Olivia closed the page and set her phone on the charging table.  She set her internal alarm to wake her before any of the others should be awake.

"Morning." She mentally promised herself before she switched to rest mode.

 

-

 

Olivia's eyes blinked open and her LED spun blue. She saw the soft tones of sunrise peeking around the sides of the blackout curtains, casting a shadow on her roommate's bed. She focused for a moment to see if she could pick up on the sounds of anyone else stirring about the house. When she was as sure as possible that she was the only one awake, she stood.

She quickly and quietly grabbed her bag.  It was a small messenger bag, so she settled for stuffing it with her identification documents, and the two bottles hidden under her bed: one of thirium, one of Jack Daniels. Her mind was preoccupied with ensuring that she wouldn't be detected. Every creak of the old house as someone rolled in their sleep upstairs, every rumble of the equipment in the garage, and every soft snore from her roommate were amplified.

Olivia slipped on a black hoodie over the leggings and tank top that she slept in.  She pulled the hood up and snuck out of the room. Thoughts raced through her head indistinctly. She had thought about doing this enough times that she could avoid the creaky planks in the flooring easily as she made her way to the front door.

Her eyes locked on Philip, the older man who was asleep in the living room recliner. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his chin was tucked to his chest, causing him to snore.

"Good riddance." Her face hardened with determination as she unlocked the front door and stepped outside.

A navigation prompt appeared in her vision.

1301 3RD AVE. →

She took her first steps as a free woman, following the arrow to the nearest bus station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all will get to see Olivia in action in Chapter 4, which I should be posting this Thursday!


	4. The Station

The receptionist android looked up from her terminal when she caught a dark figure approaching from her peripheral vision.

"May I help you?" She asked kindly.

"I'm here with a tip about the, um, red ice case?" A young woman said, her body engulfed by a large black hoodie. She removed her hood to reveal messy ginger hair and an LED on her temple.

"Name?"

"Olivia."

"Take a seat over there," the receptionist pointed to the chairs at the edge of the room. "Someone will come meet you shortly."

Olivia nodded and took a seat, fidgeting with the ends of her sleeves. She looked around nervously and kept her head down as much as possible. The entire wall facing the street was glass, anyone could walk by and see her. What if someone recognized her and reported back to Philip?

The receptionist sent Connor a notification that someone had arrived with a lead.

"Hank," Connor barely stopped himself from saying 'Lieutenant'. "There is an android here with information about the red ice case. She's waiting in the lobby. Would you like to meet with her or should I pass the information to Officer Person?"

Hank mulled on the information and considered his own level of motivation. "Let's go talk to her." He stood from his desk and led the way out to the lobby.

Olivia saw them enter from the corner of her eye and stood to face them.

"I'm Lieutenant Anderson, this is my partner Connor. We hear you have information for the red ice case?"

Olivia nodded.

"Follow us," Connor said "We'll ask you a few questions."

Connor led the group back into the station. He slowed down in preparation to have Olivia take a seat at Lieutenant Anderson’s desk.

Hank looked ahead of them and saw a crumpled up burger wrapper, an empty soda cup, a dirty mug, and a dead plant on his desk. Just as Connor began to gesture for Olivia to sit there, Hank gently nudged him so he would be gesturing 3 feet to the left at his own desk. Connor had to resist the urge to chuckle; instead, he opted to give the Lieutenant a knowing look behind Olivia's back, which earned him a grumble.

Reluctantly sitting, Olivia looked around the wide open room. She felt uneasy knowing someone could just walk in and see her there.

“Is there anywhere more private we could go?” She asked quietly just as the Lieutenant started to sit down.

Connor’s LED briefly spun yellow. “The interrogation room is available if that would be more comfortable.” He offered.

“I’ll take it.” She replied.

“Never had somebody prefer the interrogation room before.” Hank muttered to himself.

Connor led the way again, opened the door and stepped aside to let the others in ahead of him. They all took seats at the metal table.

He scanned Olivia’s face out of habit; knowing her history would be beneficial in verifying the merit of her story. His results were strange. He tilted his head and opened his mouth to ask a question.

She was biting the inside of her lip and was shaking slightly out of anxiety. Her eyes were wide and soft brown, her eyebrows raised slightly as she thought of what to say.

Connor quickly made some character judgement calculations, checking her stress level, judging her processing speed from the blinking of her LED, and analyzing her body language and speech patterns so far. He combined the information from his analysis with an emotional response that had no logical source – a gut feeling – and determined that the probability of her being untrustworthy was low. He closed his mouth, choosing not to risk scaring her off.

"What do you know?" Hank asked, straight to the point as usual.

“Listen, I want to help you. God knows I want those bastards to go down, but I need protection.” She made eye contact with Hank. “I fear for my life. Just coming here, then trying to go back there is very dangerous.”

“We don’t have any safehouses available without handing the case over to the feds, which I’m not keen to do.” Hank began before seeing the despondent look on Olivia’s face. “But I can see if any of the officers will let you stay with them.”

“I’ll take her.” Connor chimed in, surprising even himself with his lack of hesitation.

"Thank you.” Olivia locked eyes with him, intensely grateful. She broke eye contact and paused. “I have spent the last year living in the home of Philip Payne.”

Hank was visibly surprised. "Philip Payne, huh? How'd you end up there?"

"My previous owners sold me to him when they found out I'd deviated." Olivia said. "Needless to say, someone like that doesn't really listen when the law says you can't own androids anymore. I know where he lives. I know he cooks red ice in the garage. I know who sells him the ingredients. Where do you want me to start?"

"Who else resides in that house?" Connor asked.

"Can I just transfer the information to you?"

"Yes." He said as he prepared his firewalls for the worst case scenario. She may seem trustworthy, but he wasn't stupid. "We would also appreciate if you could provide names or at least faces of any other relevant individuals."

Olivia paused for a moment, queueing up a list of names and faces with timestamps. She outstretched her hand like she was waiting for a handshake. Connor reached out and interfaced with her, his LED spun yellow and he rapidly blinked as he took in the new information. After a few moments, he let go.

Leesa Pickmill, George "Dane" Payne, Yari Al-Mutairi, and Kenneth O'Stone were filed as residents, and countless others as visitors and connections.

"Kenneth and Dane go out at night and grab androids off the streets if their thirium supply starts to dwindle, so if you have a string of unexplained disappearances, that's why. They only keep me around for–" She stopped mid-sentence and looked down. "They haven't gotten desperate enough to kill me yet."

"You say that like it's a last resort," Hank said. "What do they normally do to get their ingredients?"

"Kenneth used to work at CyberLife. As you know, they run on a skeleton crew now that they only make spare parts and thirium. That makes it easier to sneak stuff out. He still has a friend on the inside who smuggles it out." Olivia paused. "As for the other ingredients, he just sends a different person out in rotation to buy them at various stores. There are a few stores he has bribed to keep quiet but they change so often that I don't know which ones they are now."

"Is there anyone connected that you think would be willing to provide more information if questioned?" Connor asked.

She paused in thought. "There is one person. Mara Yeade. She was a dealer, but she quit last month. I didn't get the details of why, but I caught the phrase 'You're dead to me'"

"From whom?"

"From Mara to Philip."

"You said that he cooks red ice in the garage of the house. Are there any other locations we need to know about?" Hank asked.

"I know a few areas where he sends dealers, but the house is the only place he makes the stuff as far as I know."

"All of those areas are in the information you transferred me, correct?" Connor chimed in.

"Yes."

“We’re gonna need some time to go over all of that,” the Lieutenant gestured vaguely to Connor, indicating that he was referring to the files she transferred to him. “But we'll know where to find you. So if we need to ask more questions, are you gonna cooperate?”

“Yes, of course." She promised. She turned her gaze to Connor. "As long as you keep me safe.”

"We will do all that we can to ensure your safety." He said professionally. "This may entail you accompanying me to the station and being placed in a comfortable area away from sensitive case information."

"Understood." She almost smiled at his attitude as she gave a humorous half-salute.

A smile lingered behind his eyes without spreading to his face for the sake of professionalism. He and Hank both stood, Olivia following suit.

"I'm going to upload the information you gave me into the case file, and then I will show you to an area where you can wait." Connor said, "At the end of the day, I will show you where you will be staying."

Olivia nodded and followed him back to his desk.

She couldn't help but stare at him curiously as he reached for his computer terminal, artificial skin peeling back as he interfaced with the machine. He blinked rapidly, as he had done in the interrogation room, and she found it…endearing? She only knew him from the stories that bordered on legend - the famous deviant hunter who went rogue himself. Yet, in person, he was just a kind and diligent man.

If he noticed her staring, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he prompted her to follow him to the open breakroom.

"You can sit in here, and feel free to approach me with any questions or concerns." He spoke kindly. "I will ask Lieutenant Anderson and Captain Fowler if I can take a half day so you won’t be here as long."

"That's not necessary, really." Olivia reassured.

Connor paused for a moment to adjust what he would say next.

"Okay. There are some magazines over there, and a television there." He pointed next to the coffee machine, then to the older TV mounted in one of the corners of the room. "That television is the only one in the precinct that is permitted to be tuned to a non-news station, so certain officers may wish to change the channel when they come in here for breaks. If anyone gives you trouble," He briefly looked towards the desk of a short and slightly disheveled man. "Send them to me."

She smirked widely and gave the same salute as before.

"You're making this way too easy for me." She joked. "Relax a little. I'm the one who should be tense."

Connor blinked a couple times, taken aback by being told to relax by someone other than Lieutenant Anderson. He nodded politely and returned to his desk.

Olivia looked around the breakroom momentarily before deciding to take a look at the magazines. She picked up the first tablet and returned to her seat. She looked at the cover.

 

> WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

 

A gossip magazine greeted her, what appeared to be drone or security camera photos were splashed across the screen. All of them were of android musicians who were freed by their labels following the revolution.

"What an invasion of privacy." She thought as she swiped to the next article.

 

> POLITICIANS GEAR UP FOR 2040 ELECTIONS
> 
> What you need to know.

 

Olivia swiped up to read the article.

 

> The 2040 elections are set to be the first since androids were granted the right to vote at the beginning of this year. As such, the electorate has grown by millions of first-time voters, and the candidates are acting quickly to designate the sectors of the populace that will serve as their targets. As expected, Democrats have been trying to scoop up the new android voters, and Republicans are exclusively targeting humans at the expense of androids.
> 
> Senator John McCallum (R-Illinois) was the first person to announce candidacy back in May, and is primarily focused on economic issues. While the economy has stagnated from its free-fall in previous years, McCallum seeks to "foster job growth" by placing limits on androids in the workforce. Many criticize this as being unconstitutional after the whirlwind of this past year, but supporters point out that androids do not have many material needs, and argue that affirmative action should be put into place for human workers.
> 
> Representative Diamond Hammonds (D-Louisiana) was the first liberal to join the race. She is insistent on androids being explicitly ruled as a protected class and being treated equally with regards to jobs and other civil rights such as voting and prosecution of crime. She has been criticized for echoing the sentiments of the revolution leader Markus, who many still view as a terrorist despite his pardoning four months ago.

 

The article went on to list three more candidates: a Democrat, a Republican, and an Independent.

Olivia furrowed her brows, deep in thought. "I guess voting is a thing I need to worry about now." She thought. "If I want to make a life for myself, I'll have to figure out who has my interests at heart."

 

> ANDROID FREEDOM PARADE
> 
> Androids and supporters of android rights are set to march down Woodward Ave. to commemorate the one year anniversary of President Warren's announcement that androids are "a new, intelligent species."
> 
> The parade route [pictured right] is set to end with a celebration in Hart Plaza, near the location of one of the recall centers in which thousands of androids lost their lives. While this event is intended to celebrate the freedom of androids from their state of slavery, there will be more somber moments to honor androids who died at the hands of abusers, in recall centers, and in the fight for freedom.
> 
> The parade and related events will be police-protected in order to guard participants from angry protesters and potential terrorist attacks. Some older supporters of android rights, especially those who participated in the Black Lives Matter movement of the 2010s and early 2020s, are skeptical of the quality of protection activists will recieve from the police. In response, Jericho has stated that they will be providing additional security for the events.
> 
> The parade will begin at 9am and events in Hart Plaza will run until 10pm, ending with a candlelight vigil.

 

She smiled softly.

"The hell are you?" Someone interrupted.

She looked up to see the disheveled man who had been sitting at his desk when Connor left her.

"My name's Olivia." She chose to be polite. "You?"

"Detective Gavin Reed. Waiting room is out front, how'd you even get back here?"

"I'm helping with a case."

"What case?"

"I don't see how that's your business." His repeated rudeness was starting to wear on her.

" _ What? _ "

"If you were supposed to know, you'd know." She shrugged, wanting the conversation to end.

"At least tell me who you're working with."

"Lieutenant Anderson and--"

"Connor. Of course." He rolled his eyes and walked away, towards the coffee machine. "Always taking the charity cases."

"What makes you think I'm a charity case?"

"Tch, sweetheart. Have you looked in the mirror this morning?"

"I am not your sweetheart." She growled, narrowly resisting the urge to deck him.

Connor heard that and rushed over from his desk.

"Detective Reed, Olivia is a civilian assisting with the red ice case. Her information is in the case file. I kindly request that you leave her alone." He said, not very kindly.

Gavin leaned back on his heels, coffee now in-hand. His eyes darted between them as he bit his tongue in his cheek.

"Okay." He raised his eyebrows and sauntered away like he was in on a secret.

Olivia watched him leave with a glare until he reached his desk. Her eyes flicked to Connor.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." His hands were clasped behind his back. "Sorry you had to deal with Detective Reed."

"Don't apologize, it's not your fault. Is he always like that?"

Connor nodded.

Olivia grimaced. "Sorry you have to deal with that every day."

He stifled a laugh and broke eye contact. She smiled and savored the crack in his excessively professional demeanor.

He returned to his original stance with a smile tugging persistently at the corners of his lips, nodded politely, and walked away.

Connor's eyes were downcast and his hands were clasped behind his back as he returned to his desk, but his expression was still happy. He looked unusually boyish, like he could say something akin to "aw, shucks" and almost have it not be completely absurd. Hank narrowed his eyes, then looked at Gavin from across the room. 

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" was implied in his expression.

Gavin smiled and shrugged coyly, then opened up a direct message window to Hank.

"Think Pinocchio has a crush?"

Hank didn't dignify that with a response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on a short hiatus (maybe).  
> I currently have chapters 5 and 6 written, and 7-15 outlined, but I've hit a bit of a block with actually writing chapter 7, so I want to take a break and get a few chapters banked up. This might end up a false alarm since my normal posting schedule is only every 2 weeks, but I thought I'd warn y'all!


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